Planet of Adventure Omnibus (50 page)

An hour’s
travel brought them under the crumbling basalt palisade. Traz suddenly halted,
sniffed the air. Reith could smell nothing, but long since had learned to defer
to Traz’s perceptions.

“Phung
[viii]
droppings,”
said Traz. “About two days old.”

Reith
nervously checked the availability of his handgun. Eight explosive pellets
remained. When these were gone the gun became useless. It might be, thought
Reith, that his luck was running out. He asked Traz, “Is it likely to be close
at hand?”

Traz
shrugged. “The Phung are mad things. For all I know, one stands behind that
boulder.”

Reith and
Anacho looked uneasily about. Anacho finally said, “Our first concern must be
the Dirdir. The critical period has begun. They will have traced us aboard the
motor-wagon; they can easily follow us to Siadz. Still, we are not completely
without advantage, especially if they lack game-finding instruments.”

“What
instruments are these?” asked Reith.

“Detectors of
human odor or heat radiation. Some trace footprints by residual warmth, others
observe exhalations of carbon dioxide and locate a man from a distance of five
miles.”

“And when
they catch their game?”

“The Dirdir
are conservative. They do not recognize change,” said Anacho. “They need not
hunt but are driven by inner forces. They consider themselves beasts of prey,
and impose no restraint upon themselves.”

“In other
words,” said Traz, “they will eat us.”

Reith was
gloomily silent. At last he said, “Well, we must not be captured.”

“As Zarfo the
Lokhar said, ‘Death comes but once.’ “

Traz pointed.
“Notice the break into the palisade. If ever a road existed, there it must go.”

Across barren
hummocks of compacted gray soil, around tangles of thorn and tumbled beds of
rubble, the three hurried, perspiring and constantly watching the sky. At last
they reached the shadow of the notch, but could find no trace of the road. If
ever it existed, detritus and erosion had long ago expunged it from view.

Anacho
suddenly gave a low sad call. “The sky-car. It comes. We are hunted.”

Reith forced
back a panicky urge to run. He looked up the notch. A small stream trickled
down the center, to terminate in a stagnant tarn. To the right rose a steep
slope; to the left, a massive buttress overhung an area of deep shade, at the
back of which was an even deeper shadow: the mouth of a cave.

The three
crouched behind the tumble which choked half the ravine. Out over the plain the
Dirdir boat, with chilling deliberation, slid toward Siadz.

Reith said in
a neutral voice, “They can’t detect our radiation through the rocks. Our carbon
dioxide blows up the notch.” He turned to look up the valley.

“No point in
running,” said Anacho. “There’s no sanctuary. If they follow us this far they
will chase us forever.”

Five minutes
later the sky-car returned from Siadz, following the road east, at an altitude
of two or three hundred yards. Suddenly it swerved and circled. Anacho said in
a fateful voice, “They have found our tracks.”

The sky-car
came across the plain, directly toward the notch. Reith brought forth his
handgun. “Eight pellets left. Enough to explode eight Dirdir.”

“Not enough
to explode one. They carry shields against such missiles.”

In another
half-minute the sky-car would be overhead. “Best that we take to the cave,”
said Traz.

“Obviously
the haunt of Phung,” muttered Anacho. “Or an adit of the Pnume. Let us die
cleanly, in the open air.”

“We can walk
through the pond,” said Traz, “and stand below the overhang. Our trail is then
broken; they may follow the stream up the valley.”

“If we stand
here,” said Reith, “we’re finished for sure.”

The three ran
through the shallow fringes of the pond, Anacho gingerly bringing up the rear.
They huddled under the loom of the cliff. The odor of Phung was strong and
rich.

Over the
shoulder of the mountain opposite came the skyboat. “They’ll see us!” said
Anacho in a hollow voice. “We’re in plain sight!”

“Into the
cave,” hissed Reith. “Back, further back!”

“The Phung-”

“There may be
no Phung. The Dirdir are certain!” Reith groped back into the dark, followed by
Traz and finally Anacho. The shadow of the sky-car passed over the pond,
flitted on up the valley.

Reith flashed
his light here and there. They stood in a large chamber of irregular shape, the
far end obscured in murk. Light brown nodules and flakes covered the floor
ankle-deep; the walls were crusted over with horny hemispheres, each the size
of a man’s fist.

“Night-hound
larvae,” muttered Traz.

Anacho stole
to the cave-mouth, looked cautiously forth. He jerked back. “They’ve missed our
trail; they’re circling.”

Reith
extinguished the light and looked cautiously from the cave-mouth. A hundred
yards away the sky-car descended to the ground, silent as a falling leaf. Five
Dirdir alighted. For a moment they stood in consultation; then, each carrying a
long transparent shield, they advanced into the notch. As if at a signal, two
leaped forward like silver leopards, peering along the ground. Two others came
behind at a slow lope, weapons ready; the fifth remained to the rear.

The pair in
the lead stopped short, communicating in odd squeaks and grunts. “The hunting
language,” Anacho muttered, “from the time they were yet beasts.”

“They look no
different now.”

The Dirdir
halted at the far shore of the pond. They looked, listened, smelled the air,
obviously aware their prey was close at hand.

Reith sighted
along his handgun, but the Dirdir continually twitched their shields,
frustrating his aim.

One of the
leading Dirdir searched the valley through binoculars; the other held a black
instrument before his eyes. At once he found something of interest. A great
bound took him to the spot where Reith, Traz and Anacho had halted before
crossing to the cave. Sighting through the black instrument, the Dirdir
followed the tracks to the pond, then searched the space below the overhang. He
gave a series of grunts and squeaks; the shields jerked about.

Anacho muttered,
“They see the cave. They know we’re here.”

Reith peered
into the back reaches of the cave.

Traz said in
a matter-of-fact voice, “There is a Phung back there. Or it has not long
departed.”

“How do you
know?”

“I smell it.
I feel the pressure.”

Reith turned
to the Dirdir. Step by step they came, effulgences sparkling up from their
heads. Reith spoke in a fateful croak: “Back, into the cave. Perhaps we can set
up some kind of ambush.”

Anacho gave a
stifled groan; Traz said nothing. The three retreated through the dark, across
the carpet of brittle granules. Traz touched Reith’s arm. He whispered, “Notice
the light behind us. The Phung is close at hand.”

Reith halted,
to strain his eyes into the dark. He saw no light. Silence pressed upon them.

Reith now thought
to hear the faintest of scraping sounds. Cautiously he crept back through the
dark, gun ready. And now he sensed yellow light: a wavering glimmer reflecting
against the cave-wall. The
scrape-scrape-scrape
was somewhat louder.
With the utmost caution Reith peered around a jut of rock, into a chamber. A
Phung sat, back half-turned, burnishing its brachial plates with a file. An oil
lamp emitted a yellow glow; to the side a broad-brimmed black hat and a cloak
hung from a peg.

Four Dirdir
stood in the mouth of the cave, shields in front, weapons ready; their
effulgences, standing high, furnished their only light.

Traz plucked
one of the horny hemispheres from the wall. He threw it at the Phung, which
gave a startled cluck. Traz pressed Anacho and Reith back behind the jut of
rock.

The Phung
came forth; they could see its shadow against the glimmer of lamp-light. It
returned into its chamber, once more came forth, and now it wore its hat and
cloak.

For a moment
it stood silent, not four feet from Reith, who thought the creature must surely
hear the thud-thud-thud of his heart.

The Dirdir
came three bounds forward, effulgences casting a wan white glow around the
chamber. The Phung stood like an eight-foot statue, shrouded in its cloak. It
gave a cluck or two of chagrin, then a sudden series of whirling hops took it
among the Dirdir. For a taut instant, Dirdir and Phung surveyed each other. The
Phung swung out its arms, swept two Dirdir together, squeezing and crushing
both. The remaining Dirdir, backing silently away, swung up their weapons. The
Phung leaped on them, dashing the weapons aside. It tore the head from one; the
other fled, with the Dirdir who had stood guard outside. They ran through the
pond; the Phung danced a queer circular jig, sprang forth, leaped ahead of
them, kicking water into a spray. It pushed one under the surface and stood on
him, while the other ran up the valley. The Phung presently stalked in pursuit.

Reith, Traz
and Anacho darted from the cave and made for the sky-car. The surviving Dirdir
saw them and gave a despairing scream. The Phung was momentarily distracted;
the Dirdir dodged behind a rock, then with desperate speed dashed past the
Phung. He seized one of the weapons which had previously been knocked from his
hand, and burned off one of the Phung’s legs. The Phung fell in a sprawling
heap.

Reith, Traz
and Anacho were now scrambling into the skycar; Anacho settled to the controls.
The Dirdir screamed a wild admonition, and ran forward. The Phung made a
prodigious hop, to alight on the Dirdir with a great flapping of the cloak.
With the Dirdir at last a tangle of bones and skin, the Phung hopped to the
center of the pond where it stood like a stork, ruefully considering its single
leg.

BELOW LAY THE
chasms, separated by knife-edged ridges of stone. Black gash paralleled black
gash; looking down Reith wondered whether he and his party could possibly have
survived to reach the Draschade. Almost certainly not. He speculated: Did the
chasms tolerate life of any sort? The old man at Siadz had mentioned
pysantillas and fere; who knows what other creatures inhabited the gulches far
below? He now noticed, wedged in a crevice high between two peaks, a crumble of
angular shapes like an efflorescence from the mother rock: a village,
apparently of men, though none could be seen. Where did they find water? In the
depths of the chasm? How did they provide themselves with food? Why did they
choose so remote an aerie for their home? There were no answers to his
questions; the aerie was left behind in the murk.

A voice broke
into Reith’s musings: a sighing, rasping, sibilant voice, which Reith could not
understand.

Anacho
touched a button; the voice cut off. Anacho showed no concern; Reith forbore to
ask questions.

The afternoon
waned; the chasms spread to become flatbottomed gorges full of darkness, while
the intervening ridges showed fringes of dark gold. A region as grim and
hopeless as the grave, thought Reith. He recalled the village, now far behind,
and became melancholy.

The peaks and
ridges ended abruptly to form the front of a gigantic scarp; the floors of the
gorges extended and joined. Ahead lay the Draschade. Carina 4269, sinking, laid
a topaz trail across the leaden water.

A promontory
jutted into the sea, sheltering a dozen fishing craft, high at bow and stern. A
village struggled along the foreshore, lights already glimmering into the dusk.

Anacho
circled slowly above the village. He pointed. “Notice the stone building with
the two cupolas and the blue lamps? A tavern, or perhaps an inn. I suggest that
we put down to refresh ourselves. We have had a most tiring day.”

“True, but
can the Dirdir trace us?”

“Small risk.
They have no means to do so. I long since isolated the identity crystal. And in
any event, that is not their way.”

Traz peered
suspiciously down at the village. Born to the inland steppes, he distrusted the
sea and sea-people, considering both uncontrollable and enigmatic. “The
villagers may well be hostile, and set upon us.”

“I think not,”
said Anacho in the lofty voice which invariably irritated Traz. “First, we are
at the edge of the Wankh realm; these folk will be accustomed to strangers.
Secondly, so large an inn implies hospitality. Thirdly, sooner or later we must
descend in order to eat and drink. Why not here? The risk can be no greater
than at any other inn upon the face of Tschai. Fourthly, we have no plans, no
destination. I consider it foolish to fly aimlessly through the night.”

Reith
laughed. “You have convinced me. Let’s go down.”

Traz gave his
head a sour shake, but put forward no further objections.

Anacho landed
the sky-car in a field beside the inn, close under a row of tall black chymax
trees which tossed and sighed to a cold wind off the sea. The three alighted
warily, but their arrival had attracted no great attention. Two men, hunching
along the lane with capes gripped close against the wind, paused a moment to
survey the sky-car, then continued with only an idle mutter of comment.